


We Are Immortal Until Our Work on Earth Is Done

by Skiewrites



Series: Bang Work [6]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, You Have Been Warned, this is not a nice fic, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skiewrites/pseuds/Skiewrites
Summary: At the end of the Last Olympian, Kronos curses Percy with his final breath, to live the same fate he did, to only be able to die by his own hands.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson
Series: Bang Work [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1174253
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95
Collections: PJO/HOO Big Bang 2020





	We Are Immortal Until Our Work on Earth Is Done

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please take a note of the tags before you continue, this fic will hold a lot of triggers for some people and if you're one of them then please don't read at the sake of your mental health!!!
> 
> So, fun game to play while you read, there are eight quotes in this fic, including the title of the fic. Do you know who said them?

* * *

_ Do you think God stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he's created? _

* * *

Percy woke up in a rotting house with nothing in his mind except the image of a girl with big grey eyes and curly blonde hair. There’s a sword in his pocket, and a wolf in his face, who teaches him his name and how to fight and how to survive. He’s there for seven days and seven nights before she sends him on his way to a place called Camp Jupiter.

He travels across the states looking for this camp, being chased by the seemingly impossible to kill the gorgons following him, and he has nothing on him except the clothes on his back, the sword in his hand, the pillow pet shoved into a rotting backpack he had picked up during his travels, and the knowledge that nothing that the gorgons did ever gave him an injury. Something about the whole experience tells him that there’s something wrong with everything he’s going through, but he doesn’t know enough to argue.

He’s almost there when an old woman yells at him to stop, and demands to be taken along for the ride.

He let out a grunt as he heaves the old woman onto his back, and he holds his tongue as she whispers in his ear that his Greek blessings will fade once he crosses the barrier,  _ when _ he crosses the river. He nods and says nothing, because his arms are straining underneath her growing weight, and the monsters are getting closer and closer and he has no idea what question he wants to ask first.

Where did he get Greek blessings? How did she know that he was blessed? If only he remembered something, anything. Was that too much to ask? Something would be better than nothing.

But he crosses the water without a problem, and he feels nothing about him change. He was still the same Percy from before.

He tests it later. There’s some stolen ambrosia next to him, because he’s amnesic, not stupid. His stolen golden (it’s supposed to be bronze, why is it gold when it’s supposed to be bronze?) dagger comes slamming down on the back of his left hand, and then goes flying off to the other corner of the room, making such a clatter that he’s surprised that no one comes into the room after a couple of minutes of deathly silence.

So, either the Tiber River can’t get rid of blessings, or he is cursed..

During his time with the Romans, and during his quest with Hazel and Frank, he quickly comes to realise how much he has been cursed. He’s almost indestructible, the only reason why he knows that he must be able to die is because the gods call him mortal, but it’s clearly not by a monster’s hand that he’s going to join the lost souls in the underworld.

He’s cursed because he looks at the other demigods around him and finds himself rather detached from them, and he gets the impression that this is not the way that he was supposed to feel. He looks at them and he notices their weak points, the way that Frank would clutch on tighter to his wood and how Hazel would look at the gems at her foot before kicking them far away from her. 

And then, when he gets dressed or rubs his back, and his hand brushes over a small patch of skin, he shakes with sensitivity, and it’s not the good kind. It's the small of his back that reminds him that he will die one day. By what does that mean exactly? He's forgotten. But he’s not sure if he hates the fact that he doesn’t remember what makes him vulnerable or if that was the only blessing he had.

The blonde haired girl is still in his mind, one with grey eyes and a thoughtful look of pride in her eyes written all over her face when she shows off her latest project, something godly in nature. Percy can barely remember his last name, let alone whatever he was feeling towards the projects in question, and yet, during the entire adventure, not a day went by that he didn’t spend some time thinking about the mysterious girl. Who was she? Why was she so important to Percy? Why did the thought of hurting her and her feelings bring him so much grief? This is the wisegirl who he wanted to hold onto forever, and he had no idea why. 

Then he remembers Annabeth Chase, the woman of his life, who was always by his side, and he remembers why he fights. 

* * *

_ To become god is the loneliest achievement of them all. _

* * *

_ "The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero . . . cursed blade . . ." _

_ When my vision came back into focus, I saw Kronos grasping his sword. Then he bellowed in pain and dropped it. His hands were smoking and seared. The hearth fire had grown red-hot, like the scythe wasn't compatible with it. I saw an image of Hestia flickering in the ashes, frowning at Kronos with disapproval. _

_ Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands. "Please, Percy . . ." _

_ I struggled to my feet. I moved toward him with the knife. I should kill him. That was the plan. _

_ Luke seemed to know what I was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can . . . can keep him controlled." _

_ He was definitely glowing now, his skin starting to smoke. _

_ I raised the knife to strike. Then I looked at Annabeth, at Grover cradling her in his arms, trying to shield her. And I finally understood what she'd been trying to tell me. _

**_You are not the hero_ ** _ , Rachel had said.  _ **_It will affect what you do._ **

_ "Please," Luke groaned. "No time." _

_ If Kronos evolved into his true form, there would be no stopping him. He would make Typhon look like a playground bully. _

_ The line from the great prophecy echoed in my head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. My whole world tipped upside down, and I gave the knife to Luke. _

_ Grover yelped. "Percy? Are you . . . um . . ." _

_ Crazy. Insane. Off my rocker. Probably. _

_ But I watched as Luke grasped the hilt. I stood before him—defenceless. _

_ He unlatched the side straps of his armour, exposing a small bit of his skin just under his left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit. With difficulty, he stabbed himself. _

_ It wasn't a deep cut, but Luke howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing me off my feet. An aura of energy surrounded Luke, growing brighter and brighter. I shut my eyes and felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister my skin and crack my lips. _

_ "I… I curse you, Perseus Jackson… Not on the Synx but on the Creator, Choas herself…" Percy threw open his eyes, his breath catching in his throat at the sight. Luke’s body was sprawled at the hearth. On the floor around him was a growing circle of ash, Kronos’s scythe liquefying into a puddle of molten metal right before his every eyes, and he struggled to turn his head away from the liquid dripping into the glowing coals of the hearth. Luke’s left side was bloody, despite the small cut, his body still smoking but it rose up around them, time slowing down to almost nothing, leaving only a Titan and a Half-blood. _

_ “I curse you, Perseus Jackson, to meet the same fate that I do. You shall only fall to your own hands, and when you do, you shall know that it was me who caused you to ultimately die.” _

_ Time sped up, and within a blink of an eye, Luke’s eyes had changed from golden to blue. Blue eyes, the way they used to be. _

_ He had more words to say, a quick mourning of broken promises, the importance of a good blade, and final goodbyes. Percy let the words wash over him, ignoring the final words of a demigod and thinking of the final curse of the Titan. _

_ He felt no different, but he was experienced enough now with how the gods worked to know it’s never an instant change, but a gradual one, like the movement from a river, the incoming of a tide. _

_ The fates take Luke’s body away, and Percy refuses to look at them, to see his future, not with the curse that was the titan’s final words. The gods walk in and Percy barely sees them, his arms filled with Annabeth. People come and go and Percy responds to their questions and their prodding but he does not know what he is saying or what he is doing, other than looking down at the girl in his arms and wondering when and how he’s going to tell her what had just happened in the time it took for her heart to skip a beat. _

_ “PERCY JACKSON!” His father’s words snap him back to reality, and it’s only then that he’s realised that there’s a full meeting going on, rare but expected given the circumstances. He’s numb as he walks over to Zeus first, to bow, and then to his father, to bow again. He’s slow to rise, but he’s not sure if it’s the physical or mental exhaustion that causes his limbs to be heavy and his hearing to become static. _

_ “Rise my son.” His father’s voice echoes around the room, but Percy could barely hear him, instead the words of his grandfather echo around his mind. _

"I… I curse you, Perseus Jackson… Not on the Synx but the Creator Chaos herself… I curse you, Perseus Jackson, to meet the same fate that I do. You shall only fall to your own hands, and when you do, you shall know that it was me who caused you to ultimately die.”

_ “A great hero must be rewarded… Is there anyone here who would deny that my son is deserving?” _

_ The silence is deafening. _

_ This is the first time that Percy remembers them all agreeing on something. _

_ “The Council agrees,” Zeus says. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods." _

_ I hesitated. "Any gift?" _

_ Any gift… Anything that Percy asked for right now, he could get. He could ask for the curse that Kronos just uttered to be lifted, but the thought of lifting the curse disappears from his mind the moment he turns around and sees Annabeth, looking at him with pride in her eyes but her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes are still red from crying over Luke’s body… _

_ Luke. Luke wouldn’t have done nothing. _

_ Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time." _

_ I stared at him, stunned. "Um . . . a god?" _

_ Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever." _

_ "Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea." _

_ "I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth. Percy glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet his eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I'd thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I'd been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I'd lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way. I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I'd seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life. Who could refuse that? Then I looked at Annabeth again.  _

_ The names of Percy’s friends rushed through his mind: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. He thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke, who both had goals so important to them that dying for them would bbe worth it.  _

_ Percy had already been given all the time in the world to achieve what he wanted.  _

_ And what better time to get started on personal goals than now? _

_ "No," Percy said. The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard.  _

_ "No?" Zeus said. "You are . . . turning down our generous gift?" There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt.  _

_ "I'm honored and everything," Percy said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year." The words feel like toffee at the back of his throat as he spoke them, but he knew that nothing he had just said was a lie. He would be living for a long time yet. _

_ The gods were glaring at him, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth, her eyes filling up with tears and for once in the past year, Percy knew for a fact that they were not tears of sadness but happiness.  _

_ "I do want a gift, though," Percy said. "Do you promise to grant my wish?"  _

_ And he wishes his wish, for the children of the gods, all of the gods, to be claimed by their parents when they are old enough to know what it means to be a demigod, and he will hold them to that oath until the day he stabs himself.  _

* * *

_ can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in any way that matters. decay exist as an exact form of life _

* * *

He continues on with his life, with Annabeth’s hands in his own, and pretends like nothing was different.

Because nothing had changed, or at least, that’s what he remembered. He remembered the underwater kiss they had later that day, and it was then that he promised himself that he would tell her what had happened to him in Kronos’s final moments. It was when he took Annabeth to his mom and finally introduced her as his girlfriend that he promised himself he would make this last as long as it possibly could.

They continue with the quest to get to Greece, following the Great Prophecy that everyone had thought wouldn’t come into effect until decades after their death.

They’re almost at Rome when they’re attacked by Chrysaor, a minor inconvenience at best.

As soon as Hazel and Piper caused the distraction he needed, Percy pulled out Riptide and started an attack of his own, aiming for Chrysaor’s neck. Unfortunately, Chrysaor was fast, unbelievably so. 

When was the last time that he had gotten into a proper sword fight? Sure, he had killed monsters during his quest with the Romans, but that wasn’t the same as fighting another being with a sword of his own. 

As Percy jumps out of the way of another stab, he hears the others beginning to struggle against the other dolphins, and he’s struck with the startling thought that it was Kronos, it was Luke, that he last had a proper sword fight with, and that hadn’t ended well for him. 

They battle back and forth, thrusting and parrying. As the fight continues, Percy’s thoughts of Luke, his words of encouragement during camp when he taught him how to fight echo around his mind, but he grits his teeth when the words of praise turn into words of a curse.

He wasn’t going to die here. No matter the outcome. 

The thought shocked him enough to make him let out a small laugh as he dodged a swing, letting the sword hit his side and letting the surprise of the lack of blood be the opening he needed to thrust forward.

Chrysaor disappears into a cloud of golden dust. The other dolphin men take one look at where their leader had just been and jump ship, leaving the demigods alone again. 

“That… That should have killed you, or at least caused some serious injuries!” Frank yelled as he came out of his hiding place from behind a ballista. Percy doesn’t disagree with him, of course that was supposed to kill him. Annabeth hugged him tightly, and Percy couldn’t help but smile and hug her back, holding her close and he selfishly hopes that he never has to let go.

“It’s the curse,” Percy explains, and there’s a guilty pride growing inside his stomach when he sees Annabeth nod at his words, her hands going to the small of his back. A year ago, he would have felt completely vulnerable with her hands there, but now it was nothing but normal skin. It was only his own hands that could cause the shiver of vulnerability to consume him. Only he was able to access his mortal point. Someone stabbing him there would do nothing. Percy stabbing himself there would kill him.

That would happen one day, he knew that.

He wondered how long it would take to drive him to that brink.

“I thought that the Tiber would wash off any Greek blessings?” Hazel says, lightly dusting herself off as she stands up and looks at him with doubt heavy in her eyes. 

“I would hardly call it a blessing,” Percy mutters, which caused the rest of the group to look confused.

“Not a blessing?” Leo asks, looking towards Pipe, who was tending to the unconscious Jason and only spaced a quick glance at him and Percy before going back to her boyfriend.

“Greek blessings fall when going through the River Tiber, and I suspect that Roman blessings would fall if you go past the barrier surrounding camp,” Percy explains, the rest of the group slowly nodding in agreement. “I’m still cursed.”

“Why would that be a curse? You can’t be killed unless someone gets you in the right place!” Leo says, waving his hand in front of him as if that would explain why not being about to die would be a good thing. “That practically makes you a god!”

“If I wanted to be a god I would have accepted the gift when it was offered.” Percy mutters darkly, and the others look at each other awkwardly, their mouths opening and closing as they try to come up with a proper response to that.

“But, still, doesn’t that improve our odds? We have someone who’s basically immortal.” Frank points out, looking at Hazel and Annabeth for their advice on the matter, and the girls just shrug after a moment of thought. 

“Yeah, but if Percy gets so much as a scratch that’s deep enough to bleed on his mortal point then he’s dead.” Annabeth explains, her voice quiet as an unwanted memory invades her mind.. Percy put his arm on Annabeth’s shoulder, pulling her close to him to comfort her, because he’s confident that it won’t happen.

Percy doesn’t intend to kill himself quite yet.

* * *

_ The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.  _

* * *

He holds her close to him when they fall into the river. 

He makes sure to never let go of her, he’s never going to let go of her, he had promised her that, but he takes a deep breath and wonders why he’s still holding on at all. It wasn’t like the river was going to kill him, was it? He was the son of Poseidon, a descendant of the Ocean King. It wasn’t like the river was going to kill him, Kronos had made sure of that, had promised that with his final smile.

But he knows what would… It wouldn’t take much, that much he was certain. A small scratch, only skin deep, only deep enough to draw blood, caused by his own hand.

But Annabeth is in his arms, so he couldn’t. 

Annabeth was the daughter of Athena, a descendant of the Gods’ Advisor. If anyone had an idea on how to get them across Tartarus, it would be her. 

~~~

He holds her close to him when they stumble over the stomach of a being that Percy’s too scared to even think of. He wonders if Annabeth could see what he could, if she can see the poison in the air that was choking them. He wonders if she can see the rivers as the veins that they are, and if she can see the ground rising up and down and as the body of the being that they’re walking over breathed in and out.

It’s everything that he remembers from his dreams when he was a kid and Kronos thought that he could get him on the Titan’s side. It’s just as foreboding as the time they looked over the edge and wondered why Luke’s shoes almost dragged him down into its depths. It’s just as terrifying as when he looked down the bottomless pit in the labyrinth and decided to walk away.

Nico had told them when they saved him that Tartarus was not made for demigods, and Percy looks down at Annabeth, the dark circles growing under her eyes and the wounds that don’t close. Her skin is blistering and she chokes on the air. 

Percy’s skin is as clear as ever. The air is heavy but breathable.

Tartarus is killing Annabeth, and there was nothing that Percy could do to stop it.

~~~

He holds her close to him when Bob saves them from Kelli and her gang, and he continues to hold her as she sleeps in the Shrine of Hermes.

He finds himself fiddling with her limp curls while she sleeps, trying to get the tangles out while, but he isn’t surprised to find that it was nearly impossible for him to do, she could barely do it herself when she has the products and the time, let alone when their in the middle of hell and covered in blood and whatever gunk they’ve picked up in the meantime.

“You feel different from the last time we met,” Bob tells him, breaking Percy’s thoughts of days when Annabeth complaining about her hair being a mess was the worst thing about the day. Percy looked at Bob, who was fiddling with the mop that he had brought along with him for the adventure. It takes Percy some time to remember when the last time he would have seen Bob, back during the winter before his 16th birthday. It’s therefore not surprising to learn that he’s changed from those times, times when death was a real threat and so was him ending the world. 

“What do you mean?” Percy play ignorant instead, because Bob was still a Titan who had tried to kill him at one point, and his statement had been vague and, for all that Percy knows, he might be talking about something other than the curse. 

Percy has never been that lucky though. 

“Demigods have a feeling about them, as do Gods. You feel… in between?” 

“I’m cursed.” Percy explains, but he knew that wasn’t what Bob meant.

“I’ve met Achilles.” Bob says instead. “You feel similar, but not the same.”

“It’s probably because he’s a ghost. They’ve got to feel different than a normal person, right?” Percy smiles, and he hopes that his bullshiting is believable enough for Bob to get off his case about it. Bob hums in agreement and Percy let out a sigh of relief, pulling Annabeth closer to him as she moved in her sleep.

They decide it’s time to move on after what they assume is a couple more hours of rest, even though they want to stay longer.

~~~

He held her closely in the elevator. Her hand brushed over his dirty face, covered in golden dust and grit. He does the same for her, lightly brushing over her cooling skin and avoiding the blisters that make up most of her face.

“You shouldn’t have-” But Percy’s voice chokes and he coughs instead of finishing his sentence. Her face goes blurry for a second, but he blinks away the tears so that he can spend as much time as he could staring at her face,

He didn’t have the voice to tell her that he wouldn’t kill him like the knife would have on Williamsburg Bridge. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he can’t see his life without her despite trying to imagine what that would be like.

“You haven’t changed y’know? You still look like the fifteen-year-old leading an army of fifty kids in a war and won.” A tear slips from her eyes, and Percy wiped it away before it moved. He wanted to etch her face to memory, but he didn’t want that memory to be filled with tears.

He wondered if he had that option.

“I always wondered… if that was something to do with the curse… but you had this look in your eye after the war… and I didn’t- She began to cough and choke then. Percy lifted her up to help her, but there was nothing that he could do. 

“Athena and her children pride knowledge and wisdom over everything, but one of our biggest lessons is that sometimes it’s better to never know.” She gives him a smile. The smile that she always gives him, one that says ‘you can never one up me Jackson’ and he sobs.

He holds her closely when he stumbles out of the elevator, and it’s only when he can no longer hold his eyes open that he lets her go.

* * *

_ True wisdom comes to each of us when we realise how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us _ _. _

* * *

They build a fire, and they burn the body. It’s the best that they could do in that situation, they all know that. They all know that a proper funeral will be held when they return to Camp Half-Blood, with a proper shawl and the proper rituals, but they’re not taught the proper funeral rites in an emergency for nothing.

But Percy always turns his head away from the towering flames and looks towards the ocean. He once wandered in on his own funeral from the ocean after being missing for two weeks, after causing a volcanic eruption. Of course, he knows that she wasn’t going to wander out of the sea like he did, and ask why everyone was sad, like he did. She was gone, Nico had confirmed it. But it hadn’t stopped Piper from charmspeaking to the body and begging her to come back like she did with Jason on their first shared quest, and it doesn’t stop Hazel looking in the dark corners of the ship and at Percy’s shadows. Percy hopes that Annabeth moves on in Elysium and doesn’t stick around, waiting for him will be useless.

They both have been to each other’s funeral. How many couples could say that?

Percy pulls his eyes away to the roaring flames. The bonfire was huge, it reached towards the skies and touched the heavens, and Percy wonders if Annabeth is saying hello to the stars for Bob, greeting Zoe again like they said that they would, or if it was a mix of both. The thought that he was just overthinking it all slides through his mind but he pushes it back out again. He doesn’t need this sort of negativity right now, not when they’re completely surrounded by it.

The sound of a hoot pulls him out of his mind, and he turns away from the bonfire again to look at the closest tree. He lets out a sigh when he spots the owl that called out to him. The owl stares at him, grey eyes that pierce deep into his soul.

Percy wonders if Athena hates him, for hurting his daughter like this. He wonders if she will threaten him like she did last time he saw her. He wonders if she will attempt to strike him where he stood, because he certainly deserved to after allowing her to die in his arms.

“How are we going to get this statue to camp?” Reyna mutters behind him. 

“I could shadow travel it to Camp Half-Blood.” Nico suggests, and Percy rolls his eyes at the suggestion. 

“We need you here.” The words leave Percy’s lips before he realises it, and the whole group are staring at him.

It’s the first thing he’s said since he got back.

“What?” Nico asks, and the rest of the group seem to be silently asking the same; Percy could feel their looks on the back of his head. 

“You’ve got experience with giants, one of the children of the big three, and are in the unique position of being the son of a Greek God and the champion of a Roman god. Three Greek kids, Three Roman kids and one that fit into both. Reyna is a leader of New Rome, so it’s better if she was there to present the statue, as a sign of good will.” Percy explains as if it was that simple. It is that simple, why couldn’t the others see that?

“I would hardly call myself someone who fits into both camps. “ Nico’s eyes narrow as Percy’s words.

“Well maybe if you stopped running off all the time then you would know that the people who fought in the Manhattan battle admire you, and the newbies are scared of everything, they barely count. Not everyone can be asking questions about monsters and gods when being chased by a monster.“ Percy replys with his arms crossed and his back to the sea, and he can feel it finally brushing against his bare feet, begging him to enter the ocean and never see the light of day ever again.

“And the Romans admire you. Sure, you’re not in the legion, and that will always put you on the outside, but the people who matter know that people don’t have to be in the legion to help the legion.” Reyna adds.

“But that doesn’t explain how we’re going to be getting this back!“ Nico points to the statue, and he does have a point. It’s huge, and not very inconspicuous. How Reyna was supposed to take that over the ocean would be a miracle, but out of anyone, Percy would put his money on Reyna to perform a miracle.

“I will help you heroes.“

The others bow at Athena’s entrance, but Percy stays still, not out of disrespect, but out of tiredness.

Oh Gods he was so tired. 

“You will always confuse me, Jackson. When I think I have you pinned down, you always have to go and prove me wrong.” Percy hummed in agreement with the Goddess, his eyes never moving from the spot.She sighs before stepping forward, and placing Annabeth’s knife, the cursed blade, into his hands. 

“Use it well.”

It took a couple of minutes for Athena to come up with a plan ( _ “Athena always has a plan Seaweed Brain!” _ ) and then she decides to start explaining the basics to the demigods, but Percy lets it wash over him as instead decides to go back to looking at the campfire, the knife heavy in his hands. In the corner of his eyes he notices that Coach Hedge, Reyna and Athena walk off to talk about the specifics of getting the statue back to camp, and slowly, the rest of the group headed to bed, leaving Percy to watch the flames climb high towards the pitying stars.

Percy takes in the growing silences of the night, met only with the rising tide and the crackle of the now dying fire, the flames barely reaching taller than the burning embers. No more owls to watch over the funeral, no more demigods trying to pretend that they weren’t consumed by grief and coming up with a plan of attack instead.

“You should be dead.” Percy looked to the side to see Nico joining him. His words didn’t surprise the son of Poseidon, the only thing that surprised him was how long it took Nico to confront him about it.

After all, there had been a lot of monsters that had attacked from his back, coming in contact with his weak spot. He wondered if they knew about it, and that was why they were targeting it, or if they were really that desperate to try and land a hit on him. It didn’t really matter which one it was, because they both had the same output, which would be Percy killing said monster with a tarrying smile plastered over his face as he looked for his next victim.

“Yeah, probably,” Percy replies as the tide pushes him with more and more force. Percy won’t be moved by an incoming tide.

“No! There’s no ‘probably’, Percy! Demigods aren’t supposed to go through Tartarus, full stop!”

“You did.” Percy snaps as he spins around to face Nico. 

“I didn’t make it through the Doors of Death.” Nico points out, and Percy takes in the bags underneath the kids eyes, his deathly pale skin that used to be dark, and the way that he seems like he’s about to fall into the shadows.

Annabeth didn’t make it through the Doors of Death. Percy wondered if she would have survived that too, if she hadn’t decided to take that hit for him. He barely remembers the trip up through the elevator, only flashes as he held Annabeth closer to him during her final words and sobbed when he felt her body cool and the blood starting to dry on his hands.

“Percy, you’re surrounded by death. It’s more than the Achillies curse.” It’s a statement, and Percy knows that there’s nothing that he can do to convince Nico that it’s anything else.

_ "I… I curse you, Percus Jackson… Not on the Synx but the Creator Chaos herself… I curse you, Percus Jackson, to meet the same fate that I do. You shall only fall to your own hands, and when you do, you shall know that it was me who caused you to ultimately die.” _

“Hmm.” 

“So what happened?”

“Kronos cursed me. He hated that he was forced to kill himself, so he cursed me to do the same.” The words barely come out, each one choking Percy that by the end of the sentence he gets the overwhelming feeling to cough, so he does and he mentally blames it on inhaling a large amount of smoke. He tries to hold it back, gripping the knife tighter as his throat burns.

“Did Annabeth know?” The words come out of Nico’s mouth as a whisper, quiet enough that Percy can pretend that he didn’t hear anything, but loud enough that he can’t pretend that it was the rushing of the wind in his ear.

“She knew something was wrong but… she didn’t want to know.” 

“It’s that why you turned down godhood? Because you're already immoral?” The question is innocent enough, Nico afterall doesn’t know his stance on immortality, but the knife is heavy in his hands and his throat is burning and Percy is so tired.

“I don’t want to be immortal Nico! I want to grow up and pretend that none of this ever happened, and pretend that I’m normal and that my dad isn’t a god and that there are no monsters hiding in the dark that want to eat me! I want to live a life where there are no prophecies that tell me if I’m going to save or destroy the world! How on earth do I explain to my mum? That I’m not aging because my asshole of a grandad decided that if he couldn’t have something then I can’t have it either?” He waves his hands around as he explains, the knife glides through the air with his anger and the tears fall down his face as he mouns.

“What are you going to do then?” And wasn’t that the question. 

What was he going to do? 

“I’m going to finish this quest. Gonna finish the quest and show Gaia who’s boss, and then…” Percy trails off for a second, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. The thought of ending it all so he can be with Annabeth leaves as soon as it comes, because he knows for a fact that she would not be pleased with him if he didn’t try and life a decently long life

What was he going to do?

* * *

_ Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.  _

* * *

The quest is over, and Percy is left feeling empty.

He sticks around Camp Half-blood long enough for the funeral, the now joint funeral with Leo and many of the other campers who died in the meantime, both Greek and Romans mixed together with a tradition to celebrate them working together, at least, in the end. Summer’s not over yet but many people start going back home early, if only to get out of the depressive state that camp had fallen into. Beads are handed out early, and along with the names of those who had passed during the last battle, and Percy takes two without explaining why. He doesn’t need to, not when both necklaces are around his neck.

He doesn’t turn back when he leaves camp.

Percy sticks around New York City until he graduates high school, only just but he does it, and then he decides he needs to finally leave. The shadows are glaring at him and the sky looks down at him with disapproval. The shadow of those grey eyes ever present and he want to run away from them.

He explains it to his mother, and she cries, they both cry. Paul stands in the doorframe holding E stelle and Percy hates that he’s never going to know her in the way that he wants to. He packs a light bag and sets off the next day, with deep hugs from his mother and promises to come and visit when it’s safe. There’s a hat from god that hates him and a laptop in his bag that he hopes he doesn’t break and blue cookies that he knows aren’t going to last to the end of the day but that doesn’t matter. His pen is in his pocket and his watch is strapped tightly to his wrist. His bag jingles lightly with the sound of clashing gold and his mind races through all of his anxieties as he crosses the busy New York City streets, wondering where he should go next. 

He ends up doing a lot of travelling.

Occasionally he bumps into a Greek demigod and a satyr, and he points them in the right direction and when he meets a Roman demigod he gives them a piece of advice that he hopes sticks with them until they at least get to camp.

He gets used to life on the road surprisingly fast. Lessons he learned at Camp Half-Blood pop into his mind when he sets up a small fire and throws in pieces of his dinner into the fire for Gods and Goddesses that he knows would appreciate knowing that he was still alive, Athena and Poseidon and Hestia and Hermes. Sometimes he throws food in the fire for Minerva and Neptune and Vesta and Mercury because he’s feeling particularly salty. 

He avoids the random rainbows that appear randomly from someone who tries to contact him, and he ignores the letters that appear next to his head when he sleeps, though he always makes sure to keep them in his bag, neatly placed at the bottom where they’re least likely to get damaged, but forever unread.

He spends his nights staring at the stars and saying hello to each of them while he fiddles around with the cursed blade, twirling it around his fingers the same way that he used to do with his pen, that always sat heavy in his pockets.

The days stretch into weeks and months in the forest, and Percy grows used to this strange new life.

The hunters bump into him one day. He had been running from a particularly nasty basilisk that had caught his scent and just wasn’t in the mood to kill it, so he had decided to climb a tree and stay there until it either got bored and wondered off or Percy got annoyed enough to kill it, though he got the feeling that it would be the second one with how stubborn they were. .

He stayed up there for a couple of hours until the monster was slain by a wave of silver arrows, and Percy had to activate his shield to stop some of the stray ones hitting him, not that it would have mattered of course. Artemis gives him a glance, rolling her eyes when he waved, before looking away and snapping at her girls, telling them to start making up camp for the night, which they quickly get to. Percy stays sitting on his large tree when Thalia approaches him, looking high up he was before just sitting down at the base of the tree.

“Everyone at camp misses you.” She says aloud, clearly not a question but requesting an answer nevertheless.

“Hmm,” Percy continues staring far into the forest around them.

“Do you not miss them? Us?” There’s anger in Thalia’s voice, ozone in the air, and tension thick enough to bite down on.

“Of course,” Percy said, before looking at the other fifteen-year-old. It makes him wonder how he managed to pretend he was almost 18 when he stopped aging the day he turned sixteen. “But I knew this was coming.”

“But if Annabeth was still here-”

“But Annabeth isn’t here.” Percy glared back at the girl. How could she choose to never grow older? How could she accept that sort of immortality? Growing up had been something that Percy had been looking forward to, getting to an age where he was an adult and could do adult things and pretend that his teenage years never happened.

He would never be able to do that anymore.

“Why are you just moving on like nothing happened?” The girl screams at him and he can only sigh back at her. 

“Why are you acting like this isn’t a path that you chose? When you became a hunter, did the people who you were leaving behind ever pop into your mind, or did you just jump at the first chance of being immortal without thought?”

“You know exactly why I chose to be a Huntress Perseus.”

“And you know exactly why I chose to bare the curse of Achilles. We all did what we had to at the time. This is the price we pay for it.” 

Thalia storms off in a huff and as a ball of static. Percy hoped that she calms down in the years to come. They’re going to be around for a long time.

He doesn’t move from his tree, even when a Goddess in the form of a twelve year old walks up to the base of his tree and frowns up at him, the expression on her face looking simply out of place, much more mature than a twelve year old should ever look.

“How did you do it?” Artemis asks, and Percy doesn’t look at her when he thinks up his answer, but instead he stares up at the sky where the stars are high above them and Zoe stares down at them with judgement.

“I didn’t do anything but get cursed.” Percy said. Artemis nods at his words.

“Is that why you denied my father’s gift of becoming a God? Because you were already immortal?”

“I’m not immortal, I’m cursed.” Percy repeated himself. He was a broken record, going round and round saying the same things and never finding anything new. “I never wanted to be like this. I wanted to be normal.”

“My father wants to strike you where you stand for being this close to the Gods.” Artemis states to him, and Percy just shrugs, because he doesn’t expect anything less from the King of the Gods. 

“He’s welcome to, as long as he knows that it won’t kill me, even if he finds out my mortal point and strikes it there.” Percy’s voice is cold, and he hates it, hates how much of a threat it sounds like, even when it’s only a fact.

“Then I shall let him know that it will be a waste of his time to try,” With that, the Goddess leaves him to stare at the stars until they fade away with the morning light.

The entire time, the cursed blade sits patiently on his lap, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Percy doesn’t know what he’s waiting for anymore.

* * *

_ The flow of time is always cruel, its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it. A thing that does not change is a memory of younger days _

* * *

The years start to go by fast and faster, and Percy wonders if that’s why the Gods don’t really care about mortals and demigods. Why care about something when it will be born, live, and die within a blink of an eye?

There’s drama still, of course, but nothing changes. 

Jason died when he was seventeen. Percy was sad by the new but unsuprised but the news, the oath about the big three kids were still in place, and the rest of them were either born before the oath or had a level of immortality to them. He misses the funeral, but he supposes that’s for the better, because it’s been so long since he’s disappeared that there would simply be too many questions asked other than the ‘how are you’, and he’s not ready to be questioned like that.

He sees things that he never thought that he thought he would during his travels. He bumps into Egyptians again and reminds himself to steer clear of Brooklyn and when he bumps into Magnus he wonders what on Earth he had done in a past life to deserve the curse that is knowing that there are too many Gods that use the US as a playground for their petty fighting and childish arguments. He and Hermes bump into each other, and the god awkwardly explains that Percy shouldn’t get involved with those of another pantheon.. Percy tells him that it’s really none of his business what he does, and the gods should have thought about that before messing around with mortals with close ties to other gods.

The years start to go by fast and faster, and Percy wonders if that’s why the Gods get too involved with the lives of mortals. It’s not like they’re that important in the grand scheme of things. 

“You’ve become a bit of a legend at the camps, y’know.” Nico says with a smile one day. Percy stayed still in the lake that he had been floating on, but he smiles nevertheless.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re the ghost of the legendary son of Poseidon who helps demigods on their quests, either to camp or otherwise. They keep asking me to summon you so that they can say thanks.” Percy let out a snort at the reasoning, and looked over to watch the way that Nico would stare cautiously at the water. Poseidon never held the same vendetta against his brother’s kids like his brothers did to his own, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t curse Nico where he stood for entering his domain without permission.

“Wow. How have the others taken that?” Percy asks, but they never mention why he doesn’t know their opinion on it.

Because he doesn’t see the others. He liked those that went on his final quest to Greece, but he was never able to get close to them the same way that Annabeth had been able to, and when she died… well, it only drove him further away. And he didn’t stay at camp long enough to say hi, only to show that, yes he’s alive, but that was it.

He couldn’t put up with those questions.

“They’re still asking me if you’re alive, and why you won’t go back.” Nico has his own question mixed in there too, Percy can hear it without Nico opening his mouth.

“I’ve got a job to do,” Percy says, and Nico rolls his eyes because he’s heard that excuse too many times now, but he lets it roll off him.

“And afterwards, when that’s done?”

“Then my job’s complete!” Percy finds no negatives in that, and yet Nico’s lips pinch together. 

They don’t say goodbye. 

The years start to go by fast and faster, and Percy wonders if that’s why the Gods are constantly surprised by what demigods and mortals come up with. Everything changes so fast that there’s never a point to keep on top of it all unless it's important. 

“They call you my great-grandson y’know?” His mom let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, and Percy couldn’t help but join in, his smooth hand clutched in his wrinkled one, and he takes in her grey hair and her kind eyes that changed colour with the lighting. There were many things that he still didn’t know the answer to, and that was one of them. 

But life only had a spark if there were unanswered questions. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve tried to tell them I’m your son, but I get an impression that they’re not going to listen to that one.” Percy said. 

“They won’t Percy! I tell them that you have my son from before I married Paul and they just smile and nod along.” She sounds outraged, but there’s a smile stuck on her face, and Percy goes about committing it to memory again, because he’s not sure how long they’re both going to be around and they both pretend like nothing has changed.

“When are you going to leave, Percy?” his mom asks as she places a hand on his cheek, and Percy takes in the comfort, he doesn’t get human contact much these days.

“When the Gods have proven that they can keep your promise.”

The years start to go by fast and faster, and Percy wonders if that’s why the Gods don’t rarely change their ways. It’s so hard to change when the thing that wants you to change will die in the next couple of years anyways. 

Percy hated his curse, but never for this reason.

One day, he bumps into a demigod.

He’s eleven years old, and he looks at him with her big blue eyes that scream with raw determination, with dirty blonde hair that swept into his eyes.

“I’ve hurt you in the past, didn’t i?” the small boy asks, still half hiding behind the tree, even though Percy is sure that the kid would be able to outrun him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.“ Percy says with a sigh. Because this wasn’t Luke. It might be his soul, and his soul might remember some of the things that happened in his past life. “No matter what you’ve thought you’ve done, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s what my dad says.” The boy says, before smiling. “His name is Hermes and he’s a Greek God! He told me to come find you y’know! He says that I’ll tell you something, but he never mentioned what that something was.” There’s no anger in his voice when he tells Percy of his parenthood, and it makes Percy’s eyes widen when he finally gets what the kid means, because there’s no anger, no resentment building up behind the kids eyes, nothing to say that he’s ready to fight the gods out of spite.

His eyes stayed blue, and Percy let out a stuttered sigh while a smile grew on his face.

They had done it. They had created the world that Luke wanted.

Luke died for a world where their parents would look out for their children, and care for them. Percy had spent the last years, however many of them there had been now, trying to make sure that Luke’s dreams came true, and when they did, well, Percy didn’t need to be around anymore.

It was only going to be a scratch, after all.

“Will I see you again?”

“No.” Percy said with absolute certainty.

“Even if I look for you? the boy asks.

“Especially if you do, so I suggest you don’t.” Percy responds, because the cursed blade is getting heavier and heavier by the day. Because the day had finally come where Percy's wish had been realised, and now there was nothing else for him to do.

It’s only going to take a small scratch after all.

That night, he looks up at the stars, and gives them a final hello, before he holds the cursed blade, now almost lighter than a feather in his hand, closing his eyes and taking in a deep, final breath, before plunging it into the small of his back.

It’s done awkwardly, for he hadn’t had this in mind when he first plunged into the River Styx, but Percy pushes that out of his mind he drop the blade, Annabeth’s blade, when his body seizes with pain, and he lets out a scream of agony as he felt blood pouring from his wound, the first wound he had since he was fifteen, and he let out small sobs as the energy leaves him, as his breathing slows, as his heart comes to a stop.

It only took a small scratch.

When he opens his eyes, he’s in Annabeth’s arms, and she holds him closely when he tells her how much he loves her. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for the Percy Jackson Big Bang, so thanks to everyone in my group who kept me motivated to continue with the fic, and to the amazing mods who ran the event!!
> 
> credit for the quotes (in order of appearance):
> 
> George Whitefield  
> Dr Romeo - Spy Kids 2   
> Barack Obama (in someone’s dream)  
> personsonable on tumblr  
> Iliad - Homer  
> Socrates  
> Hamilton - Lin Manuel Miranda  
> Sheik from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time


End file.
